


Rewind

by kaitou_marron



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitou_marron/pseuds/kaitou_marron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the unthinkable happens, Kise is given a chance to go back to the past and right a terrible wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Staged

Glancing at the clock, Kise grabs his bag and heads towards the door of his hotel room. “I can’t show up late for my last photo shoot,” he tells himself as a means to instill a sense of responsibility.

With his love for basketball increasing steadily in the last couple years, he has decided to put his modeling career on indefinite hold in order to focus on the sport. Publicly announcing his hiatus had proved difficult, since the countless responses from despondent fans fill him with guilt. However, he knows that he has a duty towards himself to pursue his own desires.

While reaching for the doorknob, a soft knock emanates from the other side. Kise opens the door without hesitation, a soft gasp passing through parted lips as he identifies the visitor.

“Hi,” the blond greets. “We haven’t seen each other for a while.” He hesitates before cautiously adding, “I thought you were upset with me.”

The guest laughs in response. “Upset with you? No. I admit things got awkward the last time we spoke, but that wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry that things got out of hand.”

Pursing his lips together, Kise tries to decipher whether the other’s words are sincere.

“I come bearing a peace offering,” the visitor says presenting a water bottle. “It’s half water, half coconut water.”

The blond relaxes. “Just the way I like it.” He accepts the gift, removes the lid, and takes a swig.

“Do you have a moment?” the guest asks. “I just want a couple minutes to clear the air. I’d feel better knowing that there are no misunderstandings between us.”

Kise mentally superimposes this impromptu meeting with his planned schedule. “I was heading out for my last photo shoot. If I take a cab instead of public transport, I can still make it if I left fifteen minutes later.” Backing away from the door, he gestures for the other to enter.

The guest follows Kise’s lead. “So your last shoot is today, huh? Part of me thinks that you giving up your modeling career is such a shame. You’re so popular.”

“I feel bad about disappointing my fans, but I don’t have the time or energy to continue modeling and playing basketball. I like being part of Kaijou’s team, and the challenge of playing against tough opponents excites me in a way modeling never did.”

Having no other explanation, Kise merely shrugs and takes another drink. As he heads towards the couch within the room to continue the conversation, dizziness washes over him. With his head spinning and his limbs feeling uncharacteristically heavy, he stumbles towards the television stand dropping the water bottle in the process. He desperately attempts to steady himself by clutching at the wooden frame.

“What’s wrong?” the visitor asks heading over.

“I’m not sure,” Kise manages seeing spots against closed eyelids. “Call an ambulance, please,” he slurs. Slipping to the floor, darkness consumes him.

\---

Kise wakes feeling impossibly disoriented. Blinking dazedly, he forces his gaze to focus straight ahead, where friends, family, and co-workers gather. The somber mood hanging over the crowd causes his stomach to churn with dread. As he takes a step forward to confront those closest to him, he feels a tug on his sleeve. When he turns around, he fears he has lost his mind.

“Grandpa?” he asks dubiously. “It can’t be; you’re dead.”

Relief washes over his grandfather’s age-wisened features. “Grandpa,” he repeats. “Oh thank goodness. I often have trouble with people your age. When I appear as a beloved pet, I have a lot more explaining to do.”

Lips turning downward, Kise says, “You’re not making any sense.” He pauses as movement catches his peripheral vision. With a sinking heart, he switches his gaze back towards the group of people realizing that they all don black clothing and miserable expressions. Then, the oddity of his grandfather’s words crash down on him like a spring thunderstorm, and the truth dawns on him. Dully, confirms his suspicions, “I’m dead, aren’t I, Grandpa?” His frown deepening, he questions, “Are you even Grandpa, I mean beyond visually?”

The spirit in front of him explains, “I’ve taken the image of your grandfather, because he is the deceased being closest to you. That’s the rule; it’s supposed to aid the recently departed with the transition. You can continue to address me as “Grandpa” to make things easier, though.”

“Transition?” Kise questions.

“To the afterlife,” the other supplies matter-of-factly.

With a crooked smile, Kise says, “I guess I have no choice but to accept that I’m dead. That really sucks; I had so much more I wanted to do.”

“If it makes you feel any better, kid, I was rooting for you.”

Cocking his head, Kise asks, “What do you mean?”

“Your death wasn’t certain,” the other spirit confesses. “Some deaths are more predictable than others, and we weren’t sure you were going to die until you did.”

With an affronted sniff, Kise accuses, “That’s a mean thing for you to say, admitting that I could have escaped death. What kind of afterlife transition specialist are you?”

“Everyone’s a critic these days,” the other ghost comments exasperated.

Kise plans on saying more, but a disturbance amongst the living captures his attention. “What’s happening now?” he wonders gliding towards the center of the action with his appointed companion trailing after him. Disquiet ripples through him upon spotting a young man with a microphone followed by a cameraman.

“Tabloid reporters are crashing my wake,” Kise whispers horrified. “What happened to respect for the dead?”

“Apparently, that’s a luxury unavailable to the popular model Kise Ryouta,” the other comments dryly. After a pause, he casually adds, “Especially when your death is surrounded by questionable circumstances.”

“What do you mean by questionable circumstances?” Kise exclaims indignantly. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Someone came to see me.” He tries to recall his last moments, however, his mind only provides fuzzy recollections. Hesitantly, he adds, “Something happened, and I never woke up.”

“You don’t remember?” the other asks sympathetically.

Screwing his eyes shut, Kise tries once more to piece together fragments of his memory, but the task proves more difficult than grasping at tendrils of smoke. “I’m pretty sure someone did something to me,” Kise supplies slowly, “I was murdered, but I can’t remember what happened. Why can’t I remember?” Frustration builds at his inability to recall his final moments, but before he can demand that the ghost with his grandfather’s image provide him with an answer, the tabloid reporter distracts him.

With the microphone shoved in Kasamatsu’s face, the reporter states, “You were the captain of Kaijou’s basketball team last year, so you must have known Kise pretty well.”

Kasamatsu moves forward wordlessly, brows knitted in anger, with Moriyama following close behind.

Upon being ignored, the reporter tries another tactic. “Can you comment on the fact that Kise died of a drug overdose. Were you aware he was using?”

“What!? How is that possible? I’ve never… I-I would never…” the blond stammers shock and rage keeping him from completing his thought.

The other ghost reassures him. “I know. You’re generally a good kid, but with your cause of death being officially ruled a drug overdose, your reputation is ruined. Everything you’ve achieved in life will be forever tarnished.” He whistles. “Someone must have really hated you.”

Offended, Kise denies the accusation. “That’s not true! I loved people, and people loved me back. I was loved.”

“Loved enough that someone staged your death as an accidental overdose?” the other challenges.

Unsure how to answer the question, Kise ignores his spirit companion in favor of focusing on his old captain’s response.

“I’m mourning the passing of a good friend and former teammate,” Kasamatsu tells the reporter in a low tone. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Now get that camera out of my face before I put my fist through it.”

The other’s fury on his behalf touches Kise.

Although the pair from the tabloid abandon questioning Kasamatsu, they look for others to ambush.

The blond grins as Kuroko passes unnoticed. He snickers as the reporter attempts to approach Midorima, Akashi, and Murasakibara only to turn tail upon receiving scathing glares from all three.

When Momoi approaches, her eyes red and her breath hitching on soft sobs, apprehension floods Kise’s system.

“What was your relationship with the deceased?” the reporter asks the pink-haired girl.

“Huh?” she responds dazed and unfocused. “Pardon?”

“You’re a pretty girl. Were you Kise’s girlfriend?”

“What? No!” she proclaims flustered. “Ki-chan is a dear friend.” Recognizing the incorrect usage of the present tense, her expression fractures, and she corrects herself softly. “Ki-chan was a dear friend.”

“You called him Ki-chan, huh?” the reporter comments. “It sounds like you two were close, close enough to know that he was using drugs, right? Are you sure you were only friends?”

Fresh tears form in Momoi’s eyes as she processes the accusatory questions. Attempting to defend both Kise and herself, she protests, “Ki-chan and I were only friends, and he would never use drugs. Never, never, never! I know what the news said, but they’re wrong.”

“Momocchi,” Kise whispers knowing that his words will not reach the intended recipient. “I’m so sorry that you have to go through this because of me.”

A familiar voice, low and commanding, cuts through the conversation. “What’s going on here? Don’t you have better things to do than to pick on a grieving teenage girl?”

“Aominecchi,” Kise whispers a shiver running down his spine. Reflexively, he closes his eyes, unprepared to face the other in his current state. After taking a deep breath to calm himself, his eyelids flutter open, and he simply gazes at the love he has left behind. Bittersweet emotions wash over Kise leaving his heart in tatters.

The interruption redirects the reporter’s attention towards Aomine, and the questions pile up. “Who are you? How well did you know the deceased? Can you comment on his drug use?”

“It’s none of your fucking business who I am and how close Kise and I were. But, I can say this; Kise would never touch drugs. He had too much respect for himself and for basketball to mess his body up with that shit.”

The response, although gruff, insinuates a personal connection, which only encourages the reporter. “You sound pretty confident in your assessment of Kise. Why? Did you two have some sort of special relationship?”

With anger radiating from Aomine, Kise has a sinking feeling about how this situation will play out. “Don’t do it,” he advises even though he knows his warning falls on deaf ears.

“You’re so goddamn noisy,” Aomine snaps. “This is Kise’s wake. Kise…” A rare vulnerability flashes in cobalt-colored eyes.

The blond immediately understands the meaning behind the other’s unfinished statement. Aomine merely wants to express emotions of loss and mourning. Although unspoken, the statement, “Kise is gone,” hovers over Aomine like a turbulent storm.

As much as it pains Kise to see Aomine in this anguished state, he watches with morbid fascination as the other struggles with acknowledging his passing.

Instead of letting grief consume him, Aomine focuses on righteous indignation. “How dare you disrespect Kise like this!” With his unparalleled agility, the blue-haired male easily snatches the camera from its user and swiftly throws the electronic device to the floor. The sound of metal crunching and glass breaking resonates. Before either the cameraman or the reporter can react, Aomine’s fists fly, and they both end up on the floor limbs sprawled awkwardly.

“Dai-chan!” Momoi exclaims grabbing onto her childhood friend’s arm with a look beseeching him to calm down.

As people gather around the commotion, the tabloid reporters finally process what has happened. They begin demanding compensation for the broken equipment and threatening to call the police regarding the violence. However, Kise finds himself unable to concentrate on the scene; only Aomine draws his attention.

“Who’s going to be there to understand Aominecchi now?” the blond whispers moisture prickling against his eyelids. “Momocchi can’t do it by herself, and I’m not there anymore.” Verbally stating these concerns causes reality to sink in, and tears slip down his face one after another like rain down a windowpane.

“That’s your biggest concern?”

The question startles Kise, who had forgotten about his spiritual escort. Wiping his eyes with clumsy fists, he responds, “Yeah. I’m dead, but Aominecchi has a future ahead of him. I’d feel awful if this incident ends up derailing it. I’ve always known how special Aominecchi is, and now I have no choice but to hope someone else will come along with the ability to see what I do.” With a sad sigh, he corrects himself. “I suppose I should say “I did” instead.” Sorrow, helplessness, and misery pull Kise towards despair.

“You two were in love,” the other ghost finally deduces.

Managing a watery smile, Kise forces himself to answer with good humor, “Duh, Grandpa.” He sticks out his tongue. With a sad sigh, he continues, “But it’s over; I’m dead.”

A thoughtful look crosses the other spirit’s face. “What if it doesn’t have to be over?”

“What do you mean by that?” Kise asks his pulse quickening at the suggestion.

“I told you before that your death wasn’t certain. Up until the end, there was a timeline accounting for your survival.”

“Can you rewind time to give me a second chance?” Kise asks.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Because you are dead, this outcome would likely repeat itself. I can send you back as you are now. You’ll have the ability to communicate with one person in hopes of saving your own life. I must warn you that this option poses a risk. You have no way knowing how the altered timeline will proceed. Perhaps the one you’re desperately trying to return to won’t fall in love with you the next time. However, this is all I can do for you. If you choose to go back to the past, I’ll be rooting for you. You’re a good kid, and you would have done so much more with your life given the opportunity.”

Kise ponders the offer. Could he endure existing as a bystander in a world where he and Aomine may never fall in love? After some hesitation, he forces himself to cling to optimism. _‘We’ve fallen in love with each other once. It will happen again, because I won’t accept any other reality.’_

Before uncertainty has an opportunity to resurface, he says, “Send me back to Aominecchi.”

“Really? You want to haunt him? I know you love him, but you have more dependable friends than him.”

“Don’t underestimate Aominecchi,” Kise warns. “I have faith in him, but if I fail and end up dying again, I would regret having spent my time with someone else.”

“Ok. Per your request, I’m sending you back. Best of luck, kid.”

Before Kise can ask any of the multitude of questions he has about his spiritual time travel, the scene in front of him fades.

\---

As if emerging from heavy slumber, Kise gradually becomes aware of his surroundings. Blinking, he takes in the sight of a familiar room until his gaze settles on a sleeping Aomine. _‘I know where I am. I just don’t know when I am.’_

He studies Aomine’s features, which still show youthful roundness in the cheeks and jaw. ‘ _Middle school,’_ the blond assesses. Then a more troubling question poses itself. ‘ _How do I communicate with Aominecchi?’_

Unconsciously, Kise extends a hand towards the other. When his fingers slip past Aomine’s form, he thinks, ‘ _Of course I can’t touch him. I’m dead. I don’t belong in this timeline, but I have to make the most of this opportunity. So, please, let me get through to him.’_

The blond reaches for the other again and creates the illusion of contact. ‘ _It looks like I’m touching Aominecchi’s cheek,’_ he marvels tears springing to his eyes. ‘ _Being like this is enough for now. I don’t know how to talk to him yet, but I’ll figure it out.’_

Sitting down Kise concentrates on everything he can perceive, from Aomine’s steady breathing to an innate awareness of Aomine’s consciousness, which glows like a healthy flame. Instinctively, he pushes his soul into the barrier that separates Aomine’s mind from him and is transported to a different location.

Kise welcomes the sight of Aomine happily shooting hoops. Excited, the blond rushes towards the other. “Aominecchi!” he cries barely able to resist the urge to throw his arms around the other boy.

The enthused greeting stops the blue-haired boy in his tracks. Palming the ball, Aomine shoots a puzzled look as he dubiously repeats, “Aominecchi? What the heck is that?”

The doubt and unfamiliarity in Aomine’s response unsettles Kise. “I…ummm,” the blond trails off trying to come up with a suitable explanation. Finally he asks, “What grade are you in?”

“I’m a first year in middle school,” Aomine replies.

“Thank goodness,” Kise breathes, relieved that his worst fears, a world where he never discovers basketball, is not yet a reality of this timeline.

The blond’s reaction causes Aomine to survey him with a curious expression. “I’m really not sure why I’m dreaming about someone I’ve never met. My dreams don’t usually include strangers.”

“You know you’re dreaming?” Kise asks surprised.

“Yeah,” Aomine answers. “I can still tell whether or not things make sense when I’m dreaming. Since your presence makes no sense, I must be dreaming.”

“Huh, so you can reason in your sleep,” the blond muses impressed. Shaking his head, he focuses on the purpose of his return. “I have something important to tell you, something that’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth. I’ve come from the future. I’m going to die, and you’re the only one who can help save me.”

The blue-haired youth surveys Kise with a thoughtful expression. “I’m sorry that you’re going to die, but I don’t know who you are, so I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you.”

Kise’s heart drops to his stomach at the other’s dismissive but pragmatic response. Panicked, he wonders, ‘ _How can I expect someone who doesn’t know me to care about my impending doom? How do I carve an impression on Aominecchi’s subconscious?’_ Taking a deep breath to calm his frazzled nerves, he discovers the perfect answer as his gaze focuses on the basketball nestled in Aomine’s hands.

“Let’s play one-on-one,” Kise suggests. “First one to score three baskets wins, okay?”

Aomine’s features light up. “You play basketball?”

Laughingly, Kise responds, “Sure do. I’m pretty sure I’ll win, too.”

“Really?” the other asks grinning at the prospect of a challenge.

With perfect copy at his disposal, Kise systematically shuts down this Aomine, nearly four years his junior.

Pure joy dances in Aomine’s eyes after the match. “Let’s play more!” he exclaims.

“I’d love to, but no can do,” Kise replies noticing their surroundings wavering. “This world is starting to feel unstable. I’m guessing you’re going to wake up soon.”

“That stinks,” Aomine comments disappointed. “But, I’m excited that I’ll be meeting such a fierce competitor sometime in the future. Hey, before I wake up, can you tell me your name?”

With an eyebrow raised, Kise sets the condition for his compliance. “If I tell you, you have to promise me you’ll remember it.”

“Sure,” Aomine agrees easily.

With a smirk spreading across his face, the blond answers, “I’m Kise Ryouta. You don’t know me yet, but you will. I’m going to make you fall in love with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this idea has been swimming in my head since last summer. I put it on hold, because I wanted to focus on 'Contact' at the time. (I’m terrible at multi-tasking.) The premise of this fic introduces challenges that I’ve never had to deal with before. I’m both excited and scared to take them on. 
> 
> Many thanks to [Analineblue](http://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue) and [Winter_of_our_Discontent](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_of_our_Discontent) for encouraging me to keep writing. Without their support, I would never have the courage to start something like this, which is definitely outside of my comfort zone.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed. Until next time. =)


	2. Polar Opposites

Aomine awakens uncharacteristically aware. Sitting up, his eyes dart around the room. When nothing seems out of place, he sighs with relief.

“What was up with that dream?” he mutters to himself.

Before he assigns full blame to an overactive imagination, his mind focuses on the last image he remembers before waking. The certainty written across the blond’s face, while speaking of love, causes Aomine’s stomach to flop. Instead of dwelling on this memory, he forces himself to get up and to go about his normal morning routine.

The day passes like any ordinary school day would, which should prove that that reality trumps fantasy, however, Aomine’s thoughts return to the blond stranger, who had seemed so desperate to be recognized and remembered.

 _‘Kise Ryouta,’_ he reminds himself. _‘I promised him I’d remember his name.’_

Although Aomine recognizes the irrationality of heeding an agreement made in a dream, his intuition tells him that Kise Ryouta is more than a hallucination.

\---

Over the next several weeks, the intensity of Aomine’s dream fades, but he remembers every detail. Like a sleeping giant, the memory lies dormant in the corner of his mind.

One morning, while waiting for class to start, he sits content with inaction. Momoi’s lively chatter with her friends catches the corner of his eye, and he watches as she trades magazines with them before waving goodbye and flitting to her seat in front of him.

“Are you still doing that magazine exchange thing with the girls?” he asks to create conversation.

“Yeah,” she answers tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “This way we each only have to buy one. It saves money, you know.”

“Not wasting your money on magazines would save more,” Aomine counters.

“It’s not a waste of money,” she protests. Turning around in her seat, she brandishes her new acquisition. “See?”

Aomine’s heart leaps to his throat, when he finds himself staring at a photograph of a younger version of someone he has only seen in a dream. Shock momentarily holds his tongue hostage as he stares at an image of Kise exuding youthful cheer. Unsure how to process his recognition of the stranger gracing the magazine cover, he reacts by blurting out, “I know him!”

Tilting her head, Momoi asks, “Really? He goes to our school, but he’s not in our class or anything. How do you know him?”

The information stuns Aomine. “He goes to our school?” he repeats dumbfounded.

“How else would you know him?” she questions. Her curiosity fades into a girlish giggle. “He’s cute. Can you introduce us?”

The situation forces Aomine to recant his previous statement. “Well, I don’t know him, know him,” he mumbles awkwardly.

“Why would you say you know him if you don’t?” Momoi asks nailing him with a piercing look.

Since Aomine has always had trouble deceiving his childhood friend, he answers truthfully. “I had a dream about him.” Once the words leave his mouth, he realizes how preposterous his explanation sounds. Momoi’s reaction makes this fact abundantly clear.

“A dream,” she says skeptically. “You had a dream about someone who goes to our school that you don’t know. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Numbly, Aomine nods in agreement.

After a pause, she pushes the issue. “Well, what did you dream about?”

“Basketball,” he offers with a sheepish grin.

Rolling her eyes, Momoi responds, “Of course. How typical of you. I wonder why you’d even have a dream like that, though. I don’t think he plays basketball.”

In a daze, Aomine murmurs, “Kise Ryouta may not play now, but he will. In my dream, he played well, and he…” He trails off as the blond’s last statement replays in his mind.

 _“I’m going to make you fall in love with me,”_ the blond had promised with a knowing smirk and a confident gaze.

The memory of the other male’s conviction fills Aomine with foreboding, which causes his cheeks to flush and his stomach to twist.

“Kise Ryouta, ehh?” she teases with a raised eyebrow. “So you know his name.”

 _‘I promised him I would remember it,’_ Aomine answers silently. _‘But I can’t say that out loud. It sounds ridiculous.’_ Instead, he searches his mind for an acceptable response and comes up empty. “I, uhh,” he stammers feeling foolish.

“What exactly happened in your dream?” Momoi inquires focusing on him with a discerning gaze.

Although Aomine’s brain spins to craft a plausible lie, he can tell his childhood friend has already come to a conclusion that hits closer to the truth than he would like. Before he utters a word, class begins saving him from a hollow attempt at deceit.

\---

Aomine’s thoughts constantly return to the implausible situation he faces – dreaming about someone claiming to be a ghost from the future, only to discover that the living version exists in a capacity that would easily allow their worlds to intersect.

“I must be going crazy. Talking to myself is just another sign of this,” he reasons aloud, while dribbling a basketball at an outdoor court he had frequented during his childhood. When he hears someone approaching, he turns around expecting Momoi. Instead, his gaze falls upon a pretty blond with sad eyes and a sober mouth.

“You!” Aomine exclaims in an accusatory tone.

“Hi, Aominecchi,” Kise greets tentatively.

“I must be asleep,” the blue-haired boy deduces. Looking at Kise, he can tell that the other wants to speak but defers in order to let him guide the conversation. Finally, he asks, “What’s with the “cchi”?”

Kise’s lips quirk upwards in a forlorn smile. “I add “cchi” to the names of people I respect. It’s what I called you. Or should I say “will call” you?” he muses.

“Ha!” Aomine cries triumphantly. “So that other dream with you in it was real, then.”

The blond nods. “You kept your promise, too. You remembered my name.”

“How could I forget the name of the person who is making me feel like I’ve lost my mind?”

“That’s so mean,” Kise whines with a pout.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Aomine asks a question to confirm a suspicion. “If I’m not crazy and you actually exist, then are you haunting me?”

“Yes, but I’m a friendly ghost,” the blond reassures with a grin.

Deciding that rejecting Kise’s statements would be counterproductive, Aomine focuses on gathering information. “If you’re haunting me, then why don’t I see you all the time? Why do you only pop up in occasional dreams?”

Golden eyes dim, and gently curving lips draw into a tight line. After a long pause, he replies, “I’m always with you. I think you can’t see or hear me during the day, because you don’t believe I’m there. Your sense of reality rejects my presence, but when you dream, I sometimes manage to break through that barrier.”

The pained expression that the blond sports unsettles Aomine, and he attempts to figure out why. However, with Kise staring at him expectantly, he feels compelled to continue the conversation, so he says the first thing that comes to mind. “I saw you on a magazine cover a few days ago.”

This acknowledgement causes joy to dance in Kise’s eyes once more. “I know. That was a really good shoot for me.”

With this change in the other’s demeanor, Aomine realizes why the blond’s grief-stricken look unnerves him, and he verbalizes his discovery. “I don’t understand you. How can you look so bright and carefree on that magazine cover, when in my dreams you appear to be holding back infinite sadness? The two yous I’ve come across seem like polar opposites. I have a hard time believing you two are the same person.”

Sorrow once again surfaces on Kise’s face. In a quiet, controlled voice he states, “I’m dead, murdered by someone I knew. Of course that’s going to affect me. I’m also working against time. By the end of my second year in high school, I’ll be dead, and my only option is to rely on someone who doesn’t believe in my existence.”

With guilt unfurling in his gut, Aomine tries a diplomatic approach. “Can’t you make this easier on both of us and just tell me who kills you? Even though I don’t know you, I don’t want you – or anyone for that matter – getting murdered.”

“I wish I could, but I don’t remember. You’re the only one I can communicate with on this timeline, so I have to depend on you to help me.”

“Why me?” Aomine asks. If his first dream of the blond provides the rationale, he already knows the answer. However, he would like verbal affirmation.

“I chose you, because you’re the person I love and trust the most.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Aomine comments, “That statement puts a lot of pressure on me. You’re basically telling me that I’m responsible for your life, and I don’t even know you!” He throws up his hands in a mayday gesture. “I can’t even begin to explain how strange this situation makes me feel.”

“I’m not trying to burden you,” Kise says. “Look at things this way; in the future you’re going to love and be loved. In fact, I love you so much that I’ve come back to see you. That’s flattering, right?”

Sighing heavily, Aomine answers honestly. “It’s more confusing than anything else. I’ve never experienced anything like the feelings you have for me, which makes it hard for me to understand things from you point of view.”

Kise offers no vocal response, but Aomine sees the other’s spirit shatters like crystal against pavement. He quickly adds, “I’m not trying to be mean, and it’s not as if I don’t believe you. For what it’s worth, my gut says that you’re telling the truth, that in your timeline we do love one another. However, as I am now, I don’t feel the same way for you. You have to understand that there’s no possible way I can return your feelings at this moment.”

A pensive look crosses the blond’s face. After a long pause, he concurs, “I’ve been unfair. I can’t imagine how I’d react if I were in your position, being told that our love is predestined, as if I have no free will. I think I’d hate that. At the same time, I can’t ignore the way I feel about you.”

With the ghost looking as if he might cry, Aomine suggests, “Why don’t we leave things as they are now? You said you won’t get killed until our second year in high school; we’ve got a few years. Either the future you know will come to pass, or it won’t.”

“Sure,” Kise agrees with smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, however he makes an attempt to comply with the other’s request. “Can we just play one-on-one until it’s time for you to wake up?”

Beaming, Aomine responds, “I’d like that.”

\---

Aomine’s latest dream of Kise haunts him more than the first one, as the memory of the other male’s wounded expression clings to him like glue. Unable to banish the blond from his mind, he mentally juxtaposes the Kise in his dreams with the image of the blond on that magazine cover. He still has difficulties reconciling the fact that one person, albeit in different times, can exude such different emotions.

With thoughts of Kise lingering with him, Aomine itches to gaze upon the magazine cover that had started his interest in the other. Instead of asking Momoi for her copy and potentially opening himself to an interrogation, he stops by a convenience store on the way home from school. Despite the nerves churning in his stomach, he forces himself to purchase said magazine, which clearly targets teenage girls. When the cashier surveys him quizzically, he feels heat rise up his neck and settle as a burning flush in his cheeks.

Once in the privacy of his room, his embarrassment fades. With dark fingers caressing the glossy cover, he studies his new possession. The Kise in this image wears the brightest smile he has ever seen. Comparing this innocent joy to the melancholy surrounding the blond in his dreams fascinates Aomine. The contrast between the two Kises feels like a puzzle he needs to figure out.

Then, he remembers one thing the ghost had said: “ _I’m always with you.”_

“If you’re always with me, then you must be thrilled that I’ve bought this magazine, that I can’t get you out of my mind, and that you’ve become a curiosity to me,” he whispers.

Silence answers his comment, but the hairs on the back of his neck prick, as if responding to a presence behind him. Slowly he turns around, unsure of what to expect. When his gaze focuses on Kise donning a triumphant smile, he yelps.

Reflexively, Aomine squeezes his eyes shut and forcefully shakes his head. Unprepared to accept the image in front of him, he thinks, ‘ _This is impossible. Ghosts don’t exist. Even if they did, who has ever heard of a time traveling ghost?’_

When he opens his eyes, he finds himself alone, as if the other had been nothing more than a mirage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Teikou backstory arc! The anime is definitely fueling my feels (as well as providing me with another look a time period particularly pertinent to this fic). Also, do your best, ghost!Kise. XD;; Hope you all enjoyed. Until next time.


	3. Fate

Aomine’s first year of middle school concludes with him growing accustomed to his new normal, which includes the occasional nighttime visit from Kise. Each encounter aids their rapport; however, he can tell the ghost acts cautiously, mentioning their future together sparingly out of respect for Aomine’s comfort level. Although this behavior brings relief from feeling responsible for the blond, Aomine has a burning sensation that he is foregoing an opportunity to learn more about himself as well as the other.

Tonight, when Kise enters his dream brimming with positive energy, the blue-haired youth feels his lips quirk upwards. Brows furrowing, he wonders at what point the blond’s moods began to affect his own.

“Aominecchi!” the ghost exclaims cheerfully, as he closes the distance between them. He then skids to a halt as he surveys the other’s face. “What’s with that weird expression?”

“Weird expression?” Aomine echoes slightly offended. Various sarcastic retorts spring to mind. Instead, he replies, “I was just thinking that you look happy. It’s kind of nice.”

Kise’s eyes widen, and the surprise holds momentarily before a bright grin spreads across his face. “You’re being kind today,” he observes beaming.

Embarrassed by the other’s delighted reaction to a few considerate words, heat rises to Aomine’s cheeks, and he ducks his head to hide the flush. “So why are you here tonight? Is there something you want to talk about?” he asks to divert the ghost’s attention elsewhere.

“Oh, yeah,” Kise says sheepishly. “I was going to tell you right away, but you distracted me.”

“Don’t blame me for being scatterbrained,” Aomine shoots back, unsure why the blond elicits the response of gentle mocking. Looking at Kise, whose lips curve upwards in an affectionate smile, he determines that this type of exchange must be typical for them.

Without losing an ounce of joy, the blond continues, “Before you distracted me, I was going to tell you that we’re going to meet for real tomorrow!”

“Hmm, really?” Aomine comments curiously.

“Do you doubt me?”

“How can you be sure?” the blue-haired boy asks.

“It’s the day we meet in my timeline, and I can’t imagine that your routine would change,” the ghost replies. As if struck by inspiration, he whimsically adds, “Think of it as fate!”

“It’s funny that you remember the day we meet, but not something more important, like when you die or who kills you.”

Kise’s expression sours. “I take back what I said before, about you being kind today. You’re as mean as always.” To accentuate this point, he pushes his lips into a quivering pout and turns puppy-dog eyes on the other.

Aomine meets the gaze with an emotionless stare, but his resolve soon wavers. Swallowing hard, he averts his eyes.

Upon winning this battle of wills, laughter bubbles from Kise before he addresses Aomine’s previous comment. “I wish I could remember events surrounding my death more clearly, too, but I’ve got to make the best with what I can do for myself.”

“Which mainly consists of annoying me,” Aomine teases, his fiery spirit flaring again.

With an exasperated sigh, the blond rolls his eyes. “Just keep an eye out for me, okay?”

“Sure,” Aomine agrees with a lazy wave. Although his tone sounds casual, his stomach turns, and gooseflesh rises on his arms and neck, a sure indication of something important to come.

\---

Unable to disregard the ghost’s prophecy, Aomine heads to school with anticipation coiled within him like a cobra ready to strike. Maintaining a heightened awareness of his surroundings, he waits for the blond to cross his path. The effort steadily drains his energy. When his last class draws to a close, only irritation and fatigue course through him.

“Fate, my ass,” he mutters, adding his own sarcastic remark after the ghost’s claim. Gathering his books, he heads to basketball practice.

Momoi follows him. “Dai-chan,” she approaches gingerly. “You seem tense today. Are you feeling okay?”

He complains in a non-descript manner to relieve his frustration. “Something was supposed to happen today, but it hasn’t. In the end, I’m just pissed off that I wasted a day waiting.”

“That’s natural; your expectations weren’t met,” she sympathizes. Then her eyes narrow, as if attempting to grasp the meaning behind his vague statement by examining him. “Wait a minute, are you talking about fate or something like that?”

“Something like that,” he mutters embarrassed at the admission.

Pursing her lips together thoughtfully, Momoi offers, “Maybe fate needs a little help. You can’t spend all of your time waiting for things to happen to you. I never thought you were the type to believe that you don’t control your own future.” With a little laugh, she continues. “The day isn’t over yet, and there’s always tomorrow. Why don’t you just get to basketball practice and worry about this later?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he concedes. “Practice should take my mind off things.”

Once the pair part, Aomine vows to focus on physical exertion in order to keep his thoughts away from topics he is not sure he believes in, like ghosts and fate. This mindset vanishes, when he glimpses a familiar crown, shimmering like golden thread, aligned with the opened gym door.

“No way,” he breathes his mouth dropping open with shock. In that moment, his mind replays the conversation he had with Momoi moments earlier, about fate perhaps needing a little help.

Before Aomine can decide on an action to take, a teammate passes him the ball. Distracted, he fumbles, and in an attempt to regain control of the basketball, he sends the sphere sailing out the door. Stunned, he watches the ball arc towards Kise and speculates if this situation is purely accidental, or if a greater force had compelled him to direct the projectile towards the other to initiate their first meeting.

“My bad!” he exclaims sprinting out the door before anyone can beat him to the task. Amused he watches the ball slam into the back of the blond’s head.

“Ow!” Kise exclaims rubbing the point of contact.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Turning around, the blond shoots a withering glare.

Aomine pauses as he takes in the other’s appearance. Although he understands Kise’s annoyance, the dispassionate sheen in the other’s eyes catches him off guard. Although he has witnessed several facets of the blond’s personality, this cold, detached Kise is completely new.

‘ _Don’t just stand around like an idiot. Say something!’_ he urges himself. Before he can overthink the situation, he blurts out, “You’re that famous model, Kise Ryouta.”

With an exasperated sigh, the blond picks up the ball and tosses it back to the instigator of his injury. “What’s your problem?” he mutters.

With the basketball in his possession and an unfriendly Kise in front of him, Aomine balks at the prospect of prolonging the awkward encounter. “Thanks!” he says before turning around and jogging slowly back to the gym.

With a glimpse at yet another side of Kise, Aomine finds himself more confused than ever. “How many Kises are there?” he mumbles under his breath. Frowning, he wonders if the question is merely self-reflective, or whether he is addressing someone else.

‘ _It’s hard to deny that Kise’s ghost from the future is haunting me,’_ he admits. _‘The fact that I’ve crossed paths with Kise today, just like he predicted, proves it.’_ Acceptance solidifies in both his head and heart. As a test, he continues to pick on the blond’s disparate moods by asking, “Out of all the Kises I’ve seen, which one is the real one?”

“That’s rude,” a bored and sarcastic voice comments from behind him. “Every aspect you’ve seen of me has been “real.” Just because I just have a complex personality doesn’t mean I’ve been fake in any way. Maybe the problem is that you’re too simple to understand me.”

Upon hearing the expected, biting response, Aomine turns his head and embraces the image of the ghost tailing him. “The things people say when they think nobody is listening,” he remarks with a teasing grin and a raised eyebrow.

Eyes widening with disbelief, Kise points at himself and asks, “You can hear me? You can see me? You believe I exist now?” This discovery causes a slow-spreading smile to illuminate his face.

Aomine concedes, “I suppose I do. We’ll talk, but after practice, okay?”

The ghost pouts at being deprioritized but grudgingly consents. “Fine, but be sure to show me something cool on the court!”

Rolling his eyes, Aomine picks up practice where he left off. The tension that had previously held him hostage evaporates now that he has met the Kise of his timeline, as foreseen. He may be putting too much stock in the words of a ghost, but he gets the feeling that things are clicking into their rightful place. Consequently, he moves with more freedom, easily dodging fellow first-string teammates that attempt to stop him. Effortlessly, he makes his way to the basket and tosses the ball into the waiting hoop.

As he scoops up the ball, one of his teammates, a third year, approaches him. “Is it just me, or have you gotten faster?”

Aomine laughs in response. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I just really wanted to let loose.” The conversation turns to small talk about the NBA playoffs, which holds his attention until the ghost only he can see straightens in posture.

The spirit’s face brightens, and he begins gesturing enthusiastically towards the door. “There I am!” he exclaims blithely, like a child on a sugar high.

Aomine automatically responds, “Huh?” With a puzzled expression, he turns around to find the schoolmate he had just injured staring at him with lips drawn into a tight line and eyes narrowed.

‘ _I really don’t understand you, Kise. You just seem like a jumble of conflicting emotions,’_ he thinks a frown marring his face.

From across the gym, the blond purposefully catches the taller boy’s gaze, while retaining that intense expression. In the span of a heartbeat, Kise’s seriousness melts into a radiant smile, as if he has discovered the answer to an important question.

This short, non-verbal exchange leaves Aomine with the impression that he has started something that can no longer be stopped.

\---

Once Aomine retreats to his room for the evening, he finally feels like he can properly converse with the ghost. “Is what you told me before true, that you’ve been with me since my first dream of you?” he starts.

“Yup,” Kise confirms with a cheery nod.

“That’s embarrassing,” Aomine mutters considering all the things he has done in the past several months under the pretense of being alone.

Comprehending the middle school student’s apprehension, Kise flushes. “I distance myself when you need privacy. Obviously, I don’t follow you into the bathroom, and when you have certain magazines out or certain things pulled up from the internet, I sit outside,” he reassures awkwardly, while waving towards the door to emphasize his point.

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any less embarrassed,” Aomine mumbles barely resisting the urge to cover his face with his hands.

Kise continues to focus on logistics of his conduct instead of letting discomfort derail the conversation. “I can’t leave you, though. I have to stay within a certain radius around you. When I get too far away, I feel dizzy. I even blacked out once.”

“It’s like you’re under house arrest,” the blue-haired boy comments latching onto the new topic.

Chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully, Kise agrees, “Yeah, it’s something like that.”

“I don’t know how you managed to get through the last year,” Aomine says. “You’re by yourself all day, and you haven’t always appeared in my dreams.”

The blond nods. “I try to communicate with you most nights, but sometimes I don’t manage to break through. I’ve been so bored,” he confides mournfully. “I’ve been passing the time by talking to myself or making snarky comments to you, as you heard this afternoon. Clearly, I wasn’t expecting a response today, which is why I was so thrilled that you acknowledged me!”

“You said you were a complex person earlier, but you seem pretty simple now, wanting attention just like a puppy,” Aomine teases.

“That’s not true!” Kise protests automatically. He takes a moment to consider the assessment, and a frown surfaces. “Maybe there is some truth in what you’ve said, not about me being simple, but about me wanting attention. It’s not my fault. Spending countless days in isolation is hard! And…” He pauses, as if pondering whether to continue. Hardened control flashes across expressive features halting the discussion.

Curiosity motivates Aomine to prod the ghost. “You clearly want to say more, so you might as well spit it out.”

With a tragic expression, the blond confesses, “I’ve been really jealous of Kurokocchi! You two seem to have lots of fun with basketball, and you’re so nice to him. I feel left out!”

Aomine bursts into laughter at this unexpected revelation. “You’re jealous of Tetsu?” he manages between snickers. “Have you always been this childish? Or is this another facet of your personality that I get to experience?” he jokes.

The blond defends himself with a wide grin, “It’s part of my charm! You and the rest of the team will see it once I join first string!”

The ghost’s promise strikes Aomine oddly, and he questions, “Why did you feel the need to tell me to watch out for our first meeting, today? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for you to make a bigger deal about the day you, meaning the alive you, join first string? I can’t imagine us interacting before then.”

“Our first meeting is important,” the blond replies.

“With the way you built it up, I was expecting something epic. All that happened was me hitting you in the head with a ball.”

“Our first meeting is important to me,” Kise reiterates with a pout.

“So, are you in love with me already?” Aomine asks.

Kise regards the other suspiciously. “Is this a trap? You know how I feel about you.”

Aomine chuckles at the misunderstanding. “No, I didn’t mean ghost you, although I see how you’d get confused with two of you interacting with me. I meant the you I met today. I’m kind of curious, and you should know the answer. Was it love at first sight for you?”

“Love at first sight?” the blond repeats incredulously, his gaze darkening. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t believe in that concept. Interest or curiosity at first sight, yes. Love means something to me. I wouldn’t use that word lightly.”

The blond’s reaction causes guilt to gnaw at Aomine’s gut. Treating this topic frivolously seems discourteous to the ghost upon further consideration. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you view love as trivial.”

“I know,” Kise says. “You said what you did, because you haven’t experienced love. You don’t know how special it is. I didn’t mean to snap at you. As an apology, I’ll answer your question. No, I wasn’t initially attracted to you in that way. Feelings take time to develop and realize. That’s all I will say about that matter.”

Although the blond’s eyes hold a wistful light that piques Aomine’s curiosity, the firmness in the other’s tone tells him that the subject is closed for discussion.

The ghost continues the chat without missing a beat. “We’ve previously discussed how me having expectations of you is unfair. I understand and respect your concerns, so I’ll refrain from talking about the future I’ve experienced. I’ll try to minimize my influence on you. I want you to make choices about what you want in this life.”

“Free will is important,” Aomine agrees.

“We’ll find a way to coexist,” Kise says with a shrug. “We sort of have to.”

“Don’t be too noisy in my head, okay?” Aomine requests. “Especially when other people are around. The last thing I want is to start talking to you and have others think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Is that your only rule?” Kise asks with an amused smile.

“I don’t know. It’s a start, though. We’ll figure things out as we go,” he replies wondering what being haunted for the next few years will be like. When Kise’s features soften at the accepting response, Aomine thinks that he could perhaps get used to having a constant companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the fun can really being after this… =D (Is it bad that I have mental images of Aomine being driven crazy by two chatty Kises?) Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
